Table@Home: Rosemary

This time of year, I feel ready to move back outdoors. Sure, I love winter and all the good stuff like skiing and a big bowl of hot soup. But now, I’m ready to pack up the mittens, watch for buds on trees and play in the backyard. This is the month that you can feel a little tricked by Mother Nature. Are we skiing, or are we playing kickball?

I stand by the sliding glass doors that look out over our backyard, and long for the warmth and newness of spring. Sitting by my side is our big, old rosemary plant. It’s seen many winters come and go, and always, it’s hauled in at the first mention of frost. There it sits, patient, by the door, ready whenever I come to snip from it. It must be four or five times a week through the winter that we pick at that plant, looking for a tiny bit, just a little to go in a salad dressing, or a big stalk, full of woodsy green leaves for roast lamb. Then the weather finally gives way to warm days and warm nights. Our trusty rosemary plant is back out, plunked in the garden next to the new basil plants and tomatoes.

The rosemary was a gift many years ago. We had just moved into our house and were planning a garden. My mother-in-law, ever thoughtful, brought us this beautiful, viny, trailing plant. It outlasted our garden by many, many years.

In planning that garden, we chose a square section in the center of the backyard. We cut out and removed the grass. In the evenings I sat and sketched plans for the little pathways that would wind through the beds. There would be a small bench on one side and a sculpture in the center, where the paths converged. The rosemary sat on a small stump we found, next to the bench.

Round, pregnant and full of dreams for our family garden, I worked alongside Paul. In the late-day sun, we planted fence posts, carried rocks and dug in the earth. Later, after we planted seeds and tiny seedlings, I imagined those seeds absorbing nutrients from the soil, turning in their soft dark beds and finally growing up and out. My hand on my ever-large belly, I knew my baby was ready to do the same.

In that garden we planted eggplant, beans, peppers and herbs. On one side of the fence sat a single long row of shelling peas. The herb bed featured three kinds of basil and, across the way, tomatoes of all shapes and sizes.

Eventually, everything we planted started to sprout. But that’s where it stopped. Each plant came up, slow and lazy, but didn’t go any further. No tendrils and buds that would turn into a fat pea pod. Not one vine that held a blossom would be a squash. Turned out, there just wasn’t enough sun back there. Those same old, tall trees that we loved were killing our garden. Disappointed but not defeated, we removed limbs from the tallest oak, the one taking up the most of our precious sun. Even still, it was not enough; as mid-summer turned to late summer, and there were still just tiny plants in our garden, we admitted defeat. The vegetables and herbs needed full sun for success. But our rosemary plant sat happy on its shady tree stump seat, fragrant and bright green.

The garden went back to being a green, grassy place to play. All the rocks and fence were removed. We took the bench to the side of the yard, where it fit neatly between flowers and hostas.

We were sad but young and industrious. And we really wanted our own little suburban garden. So we looked around for a sunny spot. The only ideal place had was on our deck. The sun shone there all day long, but it was probably not the best place for a garden. But we could be successful with pots there. So we invested in pots and boxes and anything that would hold a plant. Over the years we’ve potted strawberries, lettuce and a dozen different tomato plants. We also grow herbs of all shapes and tastes. And our old rosemary plant is just as happy on that sunny deck as it was in the partial shade of our failed garden.

All summer long we step out to the deck for a quick snip of basil, chives or tarragon for salad dressing. We cut cilantro to go with guacamole and margaritas. In the middle of it all, sits the rosemary, ever generous with its leaves. Cutting herbs is a great job for kids, and we’ve taught them the difference between tarragon and chives. Once I asked Elliot to cut me a handful of chives for an omelet I was making, and he happily went out the door, kid scissors in hand. He made it to the herbs and must have forgotten about the scissors, because he came back with a huge handful of chives, roots and all. He was 3 years old and pretty proud of himself.

Our rosemary plant still sits by that back door, like a faithful old pooch. It has seen us through many, many cold nights, waiting patiently for the first warm spring day when I open the glass and take it outside where it belongs. The basil, tomatoes, chives and tarragon will soon join the rosemary. Then, we’ll be cutting it for fresh salads and marinades for the grill. It’s not going out just yet, though. And before it does, I’ll use it to make one more cozy, wintry dish.

Onion jam is something we make as sort of a treat. Once I got my kids to get over the weirdness of eating jam made from onions, they grew to love it on thick pieces of sourdough bread, just as we do. Actually, we’re still trying to convince Zoe, but we expect she’ll come around any day now. Maybe with this next batch.

Onion jam is cooked long and slow, with just a few ingredients. Chopped onions are simmered with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, dark maple syrup and rosemary. We give it a sprinkle of sea salt, black pepper and a few velvety slices of butter at the very end. And then cut bread thick, cover it in soft goat cheese, and top that with the jam. The onions cook up very soft and sweet. And while they would be good on their own, the tiny bits of creamy butter, tangy vinegar and rich syrup just make it so much better. And then, there’s the rosemary. I love the balance of the sweet onion and maple with the earthy, strong rosemary taste.

In just a few short weeks, the wait will be over. The warm breezes will blow gently in our backyard, and we’ll know it’s time. The rosemary and I will sit together on the deck, soaking up the sun and happy that spring is finally here.

Photos by Paul Barrett/Life@Home

Caroline Barrett is the author of the Table for 5 blog. To see this month’s Table@Home recipe for Onion Jam, click here.